


Speaking as Your Friends

by St_Salieri



Series: Vampires are Stupid [2]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen, Humor, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-30
Updated: 2006-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St_Salieri/pseuds/St_Salieri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike and Angel drink and write a very important letter. Post-<i>The Girl in Question</i>.  A continuation of "Feeding the Muse".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speaking as Your Friends

"So, what? We just have to live with it? Get on with our lives?"

"Afraid so."

"Fine! No problem. I was planning on doing that anyway."

"Yeah, me, too."

"Actually, I'm doing it right now, as we speak. I'm moving on."

"Moving on."

"Oh, yeah."

"Right now."

"Moving."

Long pause.

"You want a drink?"

"God, yes."

 

*****One hour later*****

"But...she needs to know, Spike! She doesn't know what she's getting herself into. She doesn't know him the way _we_ know him. We have to warn her."

Tired sigh. "We tried. Look where it got us: right back in your office, and the laughingstocks of Rome to boot. At least we got some new clothes out of the deal."

"Damn. You're right. Stupid Immortal."

"Yeah. Hey, are you out of bourbon?"

"We can send Harmony out for more."

 

*****Two hours later*****

"It's all her fault! That bloody bitch never knew a good thing when it was right in front of her face."

"I'll say. I mean, did you see the losers she's dated? What was that guy's name, the soldier guy?"

Grunt of disgust. "Oh, Corporal Assface from Oklahoma, or whatever? Not a clue. I don't know what she saw in him."

"And then _you_. I mean, yeah, pretty low, but at least you weren't some guy dressing up like G.I. Joe."

"Yeah! I mean...hey! I was the best she's ever had!"

Loud, undignified snort. "I taught you everything you know, so really? It was me with her the whole time."

Long pause. "You realize that makes absolutely no sense."

"...shut up, Spike. Anyway, it's all her fault."

"Yeah. Stupid Buffy!"

 

*****Three hours later*****

"But...we need to warn her! The Immortal ish bad, and dangeroush, and a very bad dresser." Sobs, falls out of chair. "Buffy...."

"We've been over this, Spike. We tried, remember." Blinks thoughtfully. "Unless...."

Perks up. "Unless? Unless what?"

"Well, we could call her."

"Are you drunk? You think she'd take our calls?"

"Or...send her a letter!"

"Too bloody slow."

"Hey, I think I have her email address somewhere!" Rifles through desk, surfaces with slip of paper. "Yeah, she gave it to me before she went to Italy." Stares thoughtfully at never-before-touched laptop. "Now, to figure out how this works...."

Snatches paper away. "I'll take that. Do you even know what century this is? Or were you planning on using a quill?"

"Give that back, Spike!"

Fighting. Slapping around. Mutual bloody noses. Near destruction of precious piece of paper.

"Fine, take it, you moron!" Sulks, pokes gingerly at nose.

Mutters under breath. "Yeah, your fingers are too big for the keys anyway, you great oaf."

"What was that, Spike?"

"Nothing! Okay, here we go." Long pause. "What are we gonna say?"

"Uh...well, how about 'dear Buffy'?"

 _Tap tap tap._ "Dear...Buffy..."

"Just out of curiosity, can you type with more than two fingers at a time?"

"Hey! I'd like to see you do better."

More scuffling and shoving. Newest casualties: a Rolodex and a potted fern. Combatants retire to separate corners to lick wounds.

Pants, wipes at nose. "We have any more whiskey?"

Tosses bottle over. "You going to type, or you want me to do it?"

"I'm going, I'm going! Okay. _Dear Buffy._ " Long pause. "What now?"

"Well...I don't know! You're all with the writing, poetry guy. _You_ think of something to say."

"Huh." Thoughtful pause. "Hey, what about...." _Tap tap tap._

Reading over shoulder. " _Speaking as your friends...._ Hey, that's good! Friends is good. Sounds like we care.

"We do care!"

"But not too much!"

"No, not too much." Collapses into soggy puddle in chair. "Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I care too much!"

Heavy sigh. "Pull yourself together, Spike. The point is, she doesn't know that. We have to be calm and adult and....what's the word?"

"Forceful? Something involving whips and chains?"

"Impartial."

"Ah."

"We know this guy's bad news. We just have to convince Buffy. So keep typing."

"Right." Heaves self upright. "So. _Speaking as your friends..._ let's see...." _Tap tap tap._ "Okay. What do you think?"

Reads over shoulder again. " _Speaking as your friends, we feel we have the duty to warn you about the company you are keeping._ Good so far. _Don't be fooled by the poncy clothes, or the bulging muscles, or the immortality. Seriously, pet, a dick that size isn't normal, especially not compared to Angel's tiny little...._ " Growls. "Why you little..."

More scuffling. Wesley pokes his head in and quickly withdraws.

"Bloody... _ow_! Okay, okay, I'll take that bit out at the end. Seriously, you're disrupting the creative process here! Have to let my juices flow."

A beat. Howls of laughter.

"Oh my God...you did _not_ just talk about your flowing juices..." Snorts, wipes eyes.

Giggles uncontrollably. "Oh, lay off, and pass me that bottle." Swigs. "Right. Look, just let me finish the bloody thing. I'm in the groove now. When I'm done, we can go back and change whatever you like."

Sighs. "Fine, whatever. Keep writing, and make sure you tell her about the thing with the nuns."

Stares. "That's it. I'm cutting you off."

Winces. "Oh, right. Leave out the part with the nuns."

"Right then." _Tap tap tap._ "Hey, is this word spelled right?"

Squints. "What's it supposed to be?"

"Hazardous. Too many z's?"

Pause. "I think there's supposed to be a w in there somewhere."

"Ah. Right." _Tap tap tap._ "Okay."

"You done? Let me read it over."

"Hey!" Smacks grabby hands away. "I'm not quite finished yet. Have to add the closing bit. It's the most important part. Takes some thought. So, what'll it be? Cordially? With regard? Yours?"

Sniff. Suspicious wiping of eyes. "Love?"

Rapid blinking. "Yeah, okay. Love." Sniffs and types rapidly. "Love...Spike...and...Angel."

"Uh, no. I don't think so. Angel and Spike."

"Excuse me? I'm the one who bloody wrote the thing!"

"Well, it's my office, and my email address! My name goes first!"

"Fine!" Seethes, grits teeth. _Tap tap tap._ "Angel...and...Spike."

"Good! Now let me read...."

"No, wait!" Evil smile. _Tap tap tap._ "Captain...Forehead...and...Spike."

Growls. "Spike...."

"Too much?" _Backspace backspace backspace. Tap tap tap._ "King...of...the...Brooders...and...your...beloved...Spike."

"Okay, that's it."

"Hey! Mind the coat!"

Full out war, fists and fangs. Laptop on floor. Leather coat destroyed for the second time in twenty-four hours. Door to conference room shattered. Fingers of typing hand broken. Angel proud owner of new tonsure. Growling, then panting, then silence.

Long pause.

"I needed that."

"Yeah." Pained sigh. "Right, let's finish before we sober up enough to realize what a bad idea this whole thing is."

"Okay." Groans, heaves self upright. Picks up computer. Blinks at screen in shock.

"What? Did it get erased? Probably just as well."

"No. You...you _sent it_."

"What? I did not!" Picks self up to go look. "Oh, bugger."

"Spike!"

"What? It's your fault! You're the one who threw me into the keyboard! I must have pressed something."

"I didn't...!" Cringes. "Oh, fuck." Shoves evil laptop at partner in crime. "Well, do something! Fix it!"

Rolls eyes. "'Fix it'? What, do you think there are magical little fairies in there that carry the mail back and forth? I can't fix it! It's too late!"

Turns white. "Wow. She's going to kill us."

Nods in solidarity. "Probably. Know any good hiding places?"

"Well, the sewer's always a good bet. You grab the bottles, I'll get some weapons."

Intercom suddenly crackles to life. Harmony.

"Boss? You've got a long distance call from Rome." Disgusted snort. "It's _her._ "

Pause. Sharing of panicked looks. Grabbing of swords and booze. Exeunt vampires.


End file.
